


Enchanted

by bouj525



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Cute, F/F, Fun, Illusions, Magic Tricks, Short Encounter, Tiny bit angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouj525/pseuds/bouj525
Summary: Clarke is an illusionist seeking someone to practice her magic tricks and Lexa just happens to be in the right place at the right time.





	Enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick one shot story. 
> 
> Thank you to breakthehabit for proofreading the mess. 
> 
> While I would have loved to write a sappy love story, I'm better at writing bittersweet ones. I hope you enjoy this one.
> 
> This story mentions magic tricks by Luc Langevin. I posted the YT links of the tricks that inspired me in the notes at the end.

** Enchanted **

Clarke throws her phone against the wall as soon as her mother ends the call. She watches it bounce back on her bed, the screen now slightly cracked. She shrugs. It’s just a phone. It’s the least of her priorities right now.

She grabs a piece of paper and starts writing ideas. Her mind is distracted by her mother’s voice yelling at her, informing her that she has three months to prove herself if she doesn’t want to be sent back to medical school. She wants to scream. Her mother doesn’t know what is best for her, not in this situation. Her blood is boiling in her veins as she organizes and plans her schedule for the next few days.

She locks herself in her bedroom and, more than once, crumples her piece of paper and throws it on the floor, never satisfied. She spends the whole night writing, swearing at her pen, crossing out words, and by the time the sun rises in the sky, she’s exhausted and her floor is covered with paper. Her eyes hurt and she can barely keep them open, but her anger keeps her awake.

Her trembling hand reaches for the deck of cards she keeps in the drawer next to her bed and she starts playing with it.

She can do it.

* * *

 

Lexa glares at her phone, eyes shooting imaginary bullets, as she presses the button to end the call, stopping Anya’s voice. She leaves it on her desk and forgets about it within minutes.

She’s just relieved she doesn’t have to listen to Anya try to cheer her up. Words of compassion and messages of hope regarding the future don’t make her feel better. They make her feel worse. They make her feel like she should be thankful to be alive when really, she’s not. She’s nothing. She’s empty. Anya can try all she wants, it will never make her feel better.

She lies on her bed and pretends she doesn’t exist anymore. Her body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and she doesn’t want to do anything. Her ceiling stares back at her and the walls of her bedroom are the only company she will accept tonight. It’s deadly quiet and she’s sure that playing music would never tune the silence out. Sleeping will not do anything but make her wish she never wakes up.

Costia died yesterday and Lexa is supposed to learn how to live without the love of her life.

She can’t do it.

* * *

 

Her walk is confident and every step is made without any trace of hesitation. She’s marching like she knows exactly where to go and no one in the whole world could ever stop her. Her blonde hair is flowing around her head as the wind twirls around her in a constant stream. Her ocean eyes are gleaming, looking at their surroundings, analyzing every shape and color they come across.

As she paces, she fiddles with her deck of cards and scans the people around her, thinking about her next move. She’s debating what to do, stress running through her body. She’s trying to figure out which person to approach. She thinks she should be fine. After all, she dressed nicely this morning to avoid being perceived as a creepy odd woman, choosing a simple light blue shirt to wear under her leather jacket.

She’s meeting strangers’ eyes, but she doesn’t walk towards any of them. She decides to stop at a park and heads towards a bench facing a small pond. The cards in her hands are being shuffled and tossed around carefully. She hears voices around her coming from the many people wandering in the park, but she keeps her attention on her hands.

She knows she looks confident, but is she really? She’s just pretending to be. It helps her pretend that fear isn’t about to win this battle against her heart. She hasn’t approached anyone to show them a trick in weeks. She’s managed to impress her friends, but she knows she still has a long way to go if she wants to make this form of art her career. She feels completely out of her depth.

If she can’t do it, she thinks, she promised her mother to go back to medical school, and she would rather avoid that option. She would rather avoid any option that would make her unhappy, but this one is the worst of them all. Today’s tricks must work. She’s put a lot of pressure on herself and she refuses to fail.

Her mother gave her three months to prove that she could do it. She has tried her tricks hundreds of times, polishing them, perfecting them, rehearsing every single word to say, and making sure every move is calculated. Everything she’ll do today has been chosen as part of a perfect sequence.

It’s the last day of the third month and she won’t give up.

She sighs and looks up.

Immediately, there’s a girl who catches her attention.

She stares at the stranger, who’s sitting three benches away from hers, and struggles to look away.

She takes a deep breath and gets up, her backpack nearly slipping off her shoulders.

“Here goes nothing.”

* * *

 

She’s moving at a snail’s pace, avoiding eye contact with anything and anyone on her way to the park. She doesn’t want to let herself be distracted by one of those annoying street vendors or performers and she focuses on her only goal, to sit and read in a place where people don’t try to question her every move. She can’t blame her friends for trying to pry on what’s going on inside her mind, but she appreciates the solitude, especially today.

She’s looking at the ground, having learned by heart where to go, what turns to make and what corners to avoid. She smells the flowers before she sees them. A layer of roses covers the entrance of the park. She sees the bench she wants to sit on and proceeds to join it, her long brown hair dancing around her shoulders with every step she makes. She looks around her, eyes bored and displaying her detachment.

Her heartbeat increases slightly as she gets closer to the bench, and she tries to stay in control of her facial expressions. She swallows the lump that is forming in her throat. It tastes disgustingly familiar. She reaches the bench and sits, grateful that no one has taken her place. She doesn’t know how she would react if someone did. This place is hers. It used to be Costia’s, and now it’s hers, and she will guard it with her life.

She opens her book and starts to decrypt the words, only pausing from time to time to look at the notes in the margins. Costia’s handwriting is hauntingly beautiful and it makes her tear up. She won’t cry, she repeats in her head. She’s stronger than this. Costia would not want her to come to this favorite place of hers just to cry and fall apart. She’s already barely keeping up appearances in her every day routine.

She still has a job, but she’s transformed into a robot at work, doing the things that she is asked to do and waiting for the clock to hit five so she can leave. But even when the day ends, the pain and the sadness don’t go anywhere. They stay with her and stalk her no matter where she goes, no matter what she does or who she’s with. Besides work, they’re the only other constants in her life.

It’s been weeks since she’s had a genuine smile or a heartfelt laugh. It’s been weeks since she’s looked at a picture of the two of them together. She’s stuck in a past she’s found shelter in, and she won’t let anyone help her. It’s the only place where her mind finds motivation to keep going. She doesn’t want to forget about Costia, about the way she looked in the morning when they woke up side by side, about the way she laughed when she would find something ridiculously funny, about the way she sang opera badly in the shower or the way she sensually touched Lexa when they were alone.

She doesn’t want to forget the way Costia made her feel.

Anya gave her three months to move on, but that is far from close to the amount of time she needs to heal.

It’s the last day of the third month, and she knows tomorrow will be the same.

The pain won’t go away.

Costia’s ghost won’t suddenly leave her alone.

Lexa tries to let the story capture her, but she can’t, no matter how long she stares at the words.

She’s about to close it and just sit for a moment when a voice interrupts her.

“Hi, sorry to disturb you.”

* * *

 

The last time Clarke had approached people, she had failed her trick and humiliated herself under surprised eyes. Today, she’s determined to not let it happen, as the woman looks up to meet her eyes.

Clarke’s voice disappears for a moment as vibrant green eyes stare back at her. The first thing that strikes her is the color. The second thing is the emotion, or rather, the lack of it. They’re empty. They don’t shine like the leaves of a majestic tree under the sunrays. They don’t sparkle like a polished precious emerald. They’re just looking at her with a complete disinterest and Clarke thinks that maybe, she just made a mistake.

She’d seen a girl that was sitting by herself, and thus, a safe scenario in case everything turned badly. She hadn’t expected the girl to irradiate loneliness.

She extends her hand politely while her stomach does nervous backflips.

“My name is Clarke Griffin. May I have a few minutes of your time?”

She waits for an answer, already dreading the negative response she might receive when her hand remains untouched. When the stranger only offers silence in return, Clarke speaks again, trying to sound as convincing as she can.

“I’m an illusionist. I’d like to perform a trick with you. I’m not seeking money and I swear it won’t take too long. I’m completely harmless and I won’t even touch you.”

She shows the stranger the deck of cards like it is supposed to guarantee her good intentions.

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

Clarke smiles in relief. At least, she thinks, it’s not a direct rejection. She can work with that. She guesses the level of skepticism coming from the other woman is high. She’s faced this challenge before. Not everyone trusts her at first sight, and certainly not everyone wants to waste their time with an amateur magician.

She doesn’t really know why she chose this girl. It was an instant attraction.

“I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. All I’m asking is for a few minutes of your attention,” she insists gently.

The other woman nods slowly and closes her book as she motions for Clarke to sit. Clarke takes a seat next to her, keeping a few inches between them. She’s sweating and she’s sure her face is red, but she can’t back down now.

“Great! You can stop me anytime, but just for the fun of it, let’s just say you can only stop me if you’re not impressed by what I do,” Clarke says, trying to gather all the courage she can. “What’s your name?”

“Lexa.”

“Nice to meet you, Lexa, I’m Clarke. Today, my only goal is to leave a smile on your face when I’m done,” Clarke replies, wiggling her eyebrows.

The lack of enthusiasm she receives in return leaves her with a sense of awkwardness she isn’t used to. She’s always had a minimum of enthusiasm when she did tricks for her friends or at kids’ parties, but then again, those situations spoke for themselves.

If she can’t crack this woman, she will have a tangible reason to believe her technique needs more work. It sure appears that she hasn’t chosen the easiest person to do an illusion to, she realizes.

Lexa stares curiously as Clarke flips the cards in her hands.

The only reason she accepted is because she can’t find a way to concentrate on her story. She needs a distraction, even if it means being a guinea pig for an amateur. She doesn’t believe in these useless tricks. Costia would have gushed about it. Costia would have loved it and Lexa listens for her, pretending they are still together.

It’s all she does these days: pretending to be with Costia and denying the fact that she’s never been more alone.

Costia would have encouraged her to give Clarke a chance. She would have participated with the heart of an innocent five-year-old who still believes in fairy tales. This isn’t Lexa. Lexa doesn’t believe in happy endings. She doesn’t believe in miracles or magic, or any supernatural phenomenon. Lexa has seen what real life is, how cruel it can be, and how fearless she must remain if she wants to survive.

Fearless.

Or numb.

It’s the same.

“I’ll take off my jacket so you can see that I have nothing up my sleeves,” Clarke starts as she executes the action, leaving her in her t-shirt. “Here, you have a deck of cards. An ordinary mix of fifty-two cards, each of them having their own identity, that I invite you to examine to make sure they’re normal.”

There’s no denying Clarke’s natural charm as she speaks. Once the ice has been broken, she’s completely in her element, using words and clear explanations to share her vision of the world through her illusions. Her tone is friendly and she speaks to Lexa as if they have been friends for years. Her eyes don’t betray any sense of embarrassment and she wears a natural confidence that immediately steals Lexa’s attention.

Lexa finds herself taking the cards and doing what she is told. All cards are different and none of them seem to be fake. She knows better, of course, but still, she plays along. She moves to hand them back, but Clarke smirks.

“I invite you to pick one and keep it. Whichever you want. Don’t show it to me.”

Lexa nearly rolls her eyes when she realizes what she thought would be an impressive demonstration might just turn out to be a normal boring cards trick. She tries to hide her disappointment, but Clarke catches it.

“Do you want to stop?” Clarke asks, awaiting the downfall nervously. “We’re only just at the beginning. I know you might expect me to do something quick and be done, but I assure you, I like to talk, to share, and to let the other person really dive into my world. I won’t try to pretend everything I do is the result of actual magic.”

Lexa shakes her head negatively at the question. She doesn’t know much about this person, but she knows what hope looks like, and Clarke is full of it. She won’t take that away from someone else, not when she knows how devastating it is to lose it. Hope is the most vital part of one’s life.

She picks a card, the queen of hearts, and hides its face against her chest, giving the rest of the deck back to the blonde.

“Great, thank you, Lexa.”

Clarke takes a sharpie marker out of her pocket.

“I’d like you to write something, or draw something, on the card. Whatever you want.”

Lexa thinks about it for a minute before she settles on a fish. She doesn’t really know why, but she remembers Costia’s favorite movie being Finding Nemo and she draws a small fish figure, completed with a few bubbles around. She nods at Clarke to indicate she’s done.

Clarke plays with the remaining cards and makes a thumb fan with them. The faces of the cards are turned toward the ground, and all both women see are the same red colored backs.

“Put it back, wherever you want,” Clarke declares and Lexa does so. “I swear it gets more exciting later.”

Clarke places all the cards in a neat pile and keeps it immobile in her hands. She glances around like she’s about to tell Lexa all her deepest secrets.

“Lexa. I’m an illusionist, but some people would rather use the word magician. Are you a fan of magic?”

Lexa shakes her head. She doesn’t want to talk. She wants to see and live and experience something. And all she gets so far are more hints that Clarke will disappoint her. Magic is for the fools. She doesn’t have time for it. There is no magic in this world and she has accepted it. She momentarily wonders if she’s been distracted enough to go back to her book, but a tiny part of her resists.

Clarke is fully living this trick. She’s acting like it is the trick of a lifetime.

It pulls Lexa in and keeps her intrigued despite her initial desire to be left alone.

“Well, I’m about to change your mind,” Clarke winks. “I’m kidding. I don’t really want you to believe in magic. It’s a form of art, actually. Like painting, or writing, or even playing an instrument. You need practice, a lot of motivation, and good technique. Have you ever heard the saying that with magicians, the hand is quicker than the eye?”

Lexa shakes her head again. She keeps her eyes on the cards.

“No?” Clarke repeats, slightly surprised. “Well, it is true. It has been proven scientifically. The average human brain is able to see thirty images per second. So, following that logic, if a movement is done at a faster speed, it’s usually invisible to the naked eye. Now you may realize that I’ve just given you the secret to my trick, but it doesn’t make it any less impressive. Let me show you what I mean.”

She places the deck of cards in her left hand and wiggles her fingers to show Lexa that nothing is hidden around her arms and hands.

“So right now, you would agree that I have no idea what your card is, correct?”

Lexa nods silently, staring at the cards like they might jump alive at any time.

“And you would agree that I have nothing in my hands beside the cards, correct?”

Clarke’s voice is captivating. Every word, every question is prepared, chosen to tear down every possibility of rational explanation for what she is about to do, and Lexa is hypnotized.

It’s like she’s walking in a long road. At the end of the road, there’s the word ‘magic’ written on a single panel. As she walks, all she sees on her left and right sides are small path, each of them leading to a rational explanation of what she is about to see, and each of them being destroyed by Clarke’s words. She has no choice but to walk straight to the end.

“There’s nothing in your hands.”

“And if I flip this first card,” Clarke flips the card on the top, a two of diamonds, “it’s not your card, correct?”

“Indeed,” Lexa whispers, wondering where this is all going.

“And as you can see, neither are the second or third cards on top, and so on,” Clarke continues her explanation as she shows Lexa the cards. “So that means, yours is somewhere in this deck, maybe at the top, maybe near the middle or the end. And it’s very unique because you drew something on it, so I can’t make it up. I can’t take a random card out of my pocket and pretend it’s yours. There’s only one card like yours in the entire world. Now look carefully.”

The deck in her left hand remains untouched as she snaps her fingers from her right hand, keeping it as a certain distance so she doesn’t hide Lexa’s view of the cards. The blonde smiles and turns the first card on top, revealing the queen of hearts.

“Ah. I see you drew some animal,” Clarke declares, “Some whale? Some fish? And bubbles? I didn’t expect you to the kind of person to draw bubbles.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, not amused.

“It’s a free world,” she mumbles. “There’s nothing wrong with a few bubbles. And it’s a fish.”

“It’s a cute drawing,” Clarke mentions. “I’ve had worse to deal with. That’ll be great for the rest of the trick.”

“Figuring out what my card is, it’s nice, but not impossible,” Lexa says as she automatically guesses the trick. “You’re fast.”

Clarke has a fast hand, and while it is something not everyone can do, Lexa wouldn’t qualify it as an outstanding unique skill. Costia, however, would already be on the ground, kissing Clarke’s feet. Lexa sighs at the thought.

“You’re right. I’m very quick,” Clarke concedes. “I’ll do it again. You can look closer if you want. I’ll do it… say, 80% slower.”

She smiles the way a predator would to its prey and Lexa finds it slightly amusing. Clarke obviously is pleased with the way things are going.

Lexa likes the way Clarke seems to have found her passion. She notices how her blue eyes are full of bliss and life, and she wishes she could feel this way again. She wishes she could find her way back to living a carefree life. She wishes she could find her way back to waking up feeling blessed to be alive rather than seeing it as a curse. She wonders if it is too late to go back to her old self, the one she loves and misses a bit more everyday.

“Here, I put your card back face up in the middle of the pack,” Clarke moves slowly, giving Lexa plenty of time to follow her movements.

Lexa’s face moves closer to Clarke’s hand, her green eyes never blinking. It’s the most attention she’s given someone in weeks and she’s highly aware of the way her body tingles.

“You’re looking? Three, two, one.”

She snaps her fingers and the card appears on top of them, the queen of hearts looking back at Lexa in defiance.

Lexa frowns, mildly annoyed at the way she missed seeing the movement.

“Don’t worry, better luck next time,” Clarke smirks.

Usually, this is when people would laugh in disbelief or ask her to do the trick again. Then she would laugh in return and do it, and laugh even more when they’d practically glue their faces to her hand in an effort to see what they’ve been missing.

But Lexa isn’t like that. Lexa doesn’t smile or move closer. She doesn’t protest or ask Clarke to do the trick again, and the illusionist likes this difference. She needs this difference because she needs to be able to adapt her presentation to the public she has. Lexa is the perfect candidate. Lexa is the most serious person Clarke has ever practice with.

Lexa is a challenge.

“Look, I’ll put your card right there in the middle of the deck,” Clarke says. “I’ll leave just a little on the side so that you can see it poking out from under the layers. See?”

Lexa nods and Clarke snaps her fingers as the card appears to jump straight to the top of the deck.

The queen of hearts, once again, salutes Lexa.

“Not bad, for an amateur,” Lexa says, hiding her shock.

“Thank you.”

Clarke is extremely satisfied with the way things are going. She hasn’t messed up yet. She hasn’t let her stress eat her alive. She hasn’t stopped talking and remained frozen in place. Everything is going according to plan. She still senses resistance from the girl sitting next to her, but at least, Lexa participates willingly and hasn’t interrupted her.

“Now, I’m going to help you a little,” Clarke teases. “Take your card, and bend it, just a little bit, so that it’s not completely flat. Then put it back in the deck.”

Lexa executes the order within seconds.

“Now, as you can see, there’s a slight bump where your card is in the deck. It’s not completely flat anymore, so it’s easy to identify where your card is.”

Lexa agrees. The bump is noticeable and she’s more than certain that even Costia from heaven could see it in the distance. It is impossible for her not to see Clarke’s movement and Lexa is confident that whatever the trick is, she’ll see it.

She doesn’t know when she got into this so much, but she’s not complaining. It’s fun and it takes her mind off more serious matters. She feels her inner ten-year-old living again and she doesn’t want to make her leave. She keeps her eyes on the cards, willing herself to survive the urge to blink.

“I’ll do it extremely slowly this time, get ready,” Clarke warns her.

She holds the pile of cards between her index and thumb, showing Lexa that there is nothing in the palm of her hand or anywhere around. Keeping her right hand at a certain distance, she snaps her fingers as the queen of hearts pops out on top of the pile.

Lexa frowns, unable to deny her fascination for the simplest trick. It’s easy to guess how Clarke executes it. She makes a movement so fast that Lexa can’t see it. Perhaps she even focuses Lexa’s attention somewhere else for half a second, giving her plenty of time to miss the move. A tiny, almost inexistent part of Lexa wants to believe it’s magic, even she knows too well that it’s not.

Clarke smiles like she just won the lottery and she allows Lexa to take the card and look at it one more time.

“Many magicians can do these tricks. It’s not hard. All you need is practice until you can move so quickly that you can fool everyone else. A trained eye could, maybe, see what I’m doing.” She explains. “But let’s step higher. Because I told you I’d leave you with a smile on your face, and I don’t see it yet. But don’t worry, I have more.”

She reaches in her pocket one more time and takes out more pen.

“I have a few colors. I didn’t know what you’d draw so I brought a couple with me. Let’s make your card even more unique. Here, I have an orange one and you could make it a goldfish.” She suggests innocently.

Lexa accepts, knowing very well that drawing a goldfish was probably Clarke’s goal from the very beginning. Lexa’s been fooled to do it. As she colors inside the lines, she can’t help but think that Costia would probably hate having a goldfish. She was always more attracted to exotic species.

“Awesome,” Clarke says, taking back both the pen and the card, and placing the latest in the middle of the deck. “To make this even easier for you, you’ll be the one holding the cards, and I’ll be the one trying to take back yours. Simple, right? So, here’s how it’s going to happen. Take the deck. Place your card wherever you want. You may even shuffle the pack if you want. When you’re done, put one hand under it and one hand over it to keep it in place.”

Lexa keeps the deck safely, trying at the same time to wonder how Clarke could ever steal a card this way.

“You keep your hands like this,” Clarke says.

She stares at Lexa’s eyes for a second and snaps her fingers together.

“Now, if it worked like it should, the first card on top of the deck that is, I remind you, still in your hand, should be yours. I’ll ask you to open your hands just a little so I can grab the first card.”

Lexa feels like a fool, trying to keep her hands as close to one another as she can as Clarke fishes for the one card at the top. She feels the card slide away and mentally takes note that it seems, indeed, to be the one placed on top. She hasn’t felt anything else, and her eyes are trailing everything Clarke does.

Still, she imagines something else happened. She knows there must be something else. It’s too easy. Too direct. Too predictable.

“Keep your hands close,” Clarke says. “This is the card I got.”

She turns the card and Lexa sees.

She sees the card and what’s missing, and she doesn’t understand, until she does.

The queen of hearts is the right card, but the drawing she made is gone. The only logical explanation for this, Lexa thinks, is that the pen wasn’t permanent and that it got erased in some way in Clarke’s hands. But when she looks at Clarke’s skin, it’s still clean and no traces of colors can be seen.

“Queen of hearts. Oh?” Clarke fakes the surprise. “It really is your card. But… the fish is gone.”

“Obviously,” Lexa replies. “Nice trick. Fake ink? Not really impressive.”

Clarke’s confidence grows stronger.

“Nice theory. You’re getting into it, aren’t you?” Clarke laughs slightly. “You know, I really think it is your card and not one I just took from another deck. I just think that the fish went somewhere else.”

“It’s going to be on the other cards,” Lexa nods. “Fun. Predictable, but fun. I can see why kids would like you.”

It’s a nice distraction. It’s just what she needed to be able to get back to her book.

“Well… I haven’t done this trick to many kids, but maybe. However, I think the easiest way to put it is that you took the fish. It’s in your hands right now.”

Lexa frowns, unable to understand what it means. She doesn’t have a fish. She didn’t feel anything move except for the one card Clarke took from the deck, and she stared at her hands the whole time, not even allowing herself to blink. She would know if there was a fish between her hand. She feels no water, no wet matter, no bubbles, nothing.

The moment she opens her hands, she gasps. In rectangular transparent box, the same size of a deck of card, swims a goldfish.

“Is it really your fish? Are the scales at the same place as where you first drew them on the card?” Clarke asks with a voice she tries to keep as calm as possible.

It worked. Everything worked perfectly. She wishes she could jump right now, but she knows Lexa would probably run away from her crazy behavior.

“You must be joking,” Lexa says, staring at the animal and registering the question Clarke just asked her.

Clarke’s blue eyes are threatening the joy the woman feels.

“The scales? You’re asking me about the scales? As if I would remember or notice that?”

“I mean, I want to know if I did the trick right,” Clarke chuckles. “It’s the exact same fish you drew after all.”

“Of course, it is,” Lexa scoffs loudly, still looking at the animal.

It’s not a screen. It’s not a video. The cards are gone and so is all her understanding of the trick. She knows how Clarke did to find her card when it was in the middle of the pack. She knows how Clarke did to move the card back to the top.

But right now, the only explanation she has is magic. The fish came out of nowhere and it is very much alive. It’s swimming in this cramped environment and looking at her with its bulging eyes like it is judging her for being shocked at the situation.

She blinks a few times, frowning as she tries to understand how she’s been fooled so easily and then, Clarke takes the little box back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll free the little guy soon. I’m going back to the shop. He’ll live happily ever after in an aquarium,” she coos.

Lexa is speechless for a minute before she admits she can’t figure out how Clarke did it. Clarke didn’t have anything within reach. She didn’t have sleeves to hide a fish in, she didn’t have a pocket big enough to keep a rectangular box without it being noticeable. She does have a backpack, but unless she has superpowers, Lexa doesn’t see how she could have picked it from there without her noticing.

“Impressive. Congratulations. I don’t say that to many people.”

“Thank you, it means a lot. And thank you for taking some time to let me do this. I told you I was harmless.”

Lexa nods. She doesn’t regret it. It isn’t as bad as she first expected it to be and she can feel her neurons firing relentlessly as she analyzes every possible solution.

“You haven’t smiled,” Clarke notices. “You looked sort of… surprised at the end. Who wouldn’t be? It’s the grand finale. But you didn’t smile.”

It’s not an accusation, just an observation.

Lexa nods again.

She didn’t smile and part of her wishes she had. But she can’t. She physically can’t. How could she? The one person who would truly appreciate Clarke’s trick for what it is, who would feel rather than try to find an explanation, who would laugh and be amazed in the purest way, isn’t here.

And Lexa? Lexa knows she could smile with her mouth, but her eyes wouldn’t follow.

“I enjoyed it,” Lexa says quietly.

Clarke knows.

The absence of joy in Lexa’s eyes is still present. It took the blonde a little time, but she finally recognizes what it is and why it exists. It’s a mark. It’s what remains of hours spent lying in the dark and crying every tear her body has to offer. It’s what remains after the darkest storm has passed and destroyed everything on its way. It’s a stamp of survival that no one wants to live with.

It’s the mark of someone who has been left behind and it tells Clarke a lot about Lexa. Clarke knows what it takes to reach to point. She knows what it feels like to lose hope and to think you’ll never get it back. She knows what it feels like to be half alive.

She had been there. She’d had that look in her eyes when her father died and all she’d wanted was to curl up in her bed and not move. She’d had those nights spent punching her desk, her walls and everything she could find, screaming at the moon, swearing at the stars and yelling at the planets. She’d had those night spent feeling nothing, being completely numb to her surroundings, and wandering like a ghost in her own house.

She’d spent days trying to replace the hurt in her head by something she could see, something that would heal with time. She’d ended up pushing her friends away until they couldn’t be pushed any further. They had all come back to her, carefully, slowly, loyally, and prevented her from falling apart.

She’d spent months avoiding his pictures and the recordings of his voice. She’d made long detours to avoid walking by his favorite places. She’d tried to avoid the pain, but it would constantly come back and haunt her, making her its helpless slave, until she hadn’t been able to avoid it anymore. She couldn’t run from grief forever, but she had tried. Just like she had tried to beat the laws of this world by replaying the same memories over and over again in her head, until they’d inevitably started to disappear too.

Today, she doesn’t remember her father’s voice, but she remembers his words. She’s doing the best she can now. She’s doing the best she can to walk through life with her beliefs and convictions without letting anyone bring her down. She’s doing the best she can to bring happiness into people’s life. She’s doing the best she can to heal her soul a little more, every day.

She’s doing the best she can at this terrible, unfair game that is life.

Clarke doesn’t know anything about Lexa besides her name, but those eyes are the same as hers used to be.

And Lexa is doing the best she can at learning how to live when she doesn’t want to.

Clarke understands.

“I have an idea,” Clarke says as she moves a bit closer to Lexa. “If you’re not busy, I’d like to show you another trick. I’m still harmless, but we’d have to move to go somewhere else first. What do you think?”

Lexa considers the idea.

On one hand, she can stay here all afternoon, basking in the sun, her mind preoccupied by a memory from her past that she should slowly let go of. On the other hand, she can follow this girl she barely knows and maybe be amazed at something else. The sun is already high in the sky and she knows it’s a matter of time before it goes back down the horizon. Late summer nights are far behind them and October will start soon.

Any other day, she would have said no. She would have made up an excuse and stayed in her corner, convincing herself being alone is better than Clarke’s company. She would have forgotten Clarke and her illusions and gone back to her lifeless existence.

Today, she agrees because Clarke looks at her with more hope in her eyes, but also a layer of respect and kindness. Clarke looks like an escape. A temporary escape Lexa could have just for a day. Clarke looks like an oasis in the middle of the driest desert.

Clarke is the person Lexa didn’t know she needed until today.

“Lead the way,” Lexa murmurs.

* * *

 

The two women walk, jog and even run through the streets. Clarke is using everything she can find around her to do tiny tricks to distract Lexa’s mind. She floats over the sidewalks, makes a flower fly through the air between the two of them, changes the color of a STOP sign and pretends she can speak to birds and commands their actions.

It’s fun and casual, and Lexa is taken hostage by Clarke’s spell. She stops trying to figure out the key to solve the puzzles and just enjoys what her eyes see on their own. What they see is a chance to enjoy the small things in life.

The impossible comes to life in front of her with every step they take. She follows Clarke through the streets like she is born to do so, unable to look away from the woman ahead of her. The illusionist is dancing through the obstacles, jumping and gesturing like she’s narrating a tale with every single move she makes. Her voice is soft and strong and she knows exactly what to say to make Lexa dream.

And Lexa is helpless to prevent herself from falling under her spell. She can’t do anything but follow. ~~~~

By the time they reach the pet shop, Lexa has stopped thinking about that lonely bench in the park. Clarke leaves the goldfish at the store and Lexa, once again, has proof that it is a real animal when it is released into a bigger aquarium with its fellow companions.

They head to a grocery store and Lexa curiously wonders what is about to happen. Clarke grins like she’s holding crucial information from Lexa, and she is, of course, hiding something. Lexa has no idea what is about to happen.

Clarke stares at the products displayed around her, ultimately asking Lexa to pick an orange, a lemon and a dozen of eggs of her choice. She’s trying to make it look like she knows exactly where she’s going with all these objects, but she knows better. Her next trick is going to be one step above everything she’s done so far, and she knows if she misses it, it will only be because she hasn’t practiced enough. Still, she really believes it will make Lexa’s smile appear.

“Let it be clear that I’m buying this lemon and this orange and these eggs in front of you and that you chose all of them,” Clarke clarifies. “I didn’t plan this, I didn’t have a secret agreement with the person who owns the store or with the families who cultivated those fruits. This is completely random.”

Lexa nods apprehensively.

They walk back to the nearest park, a different place than the one they were at before, and sit at a picnic table. Clarke puts everything on the table, and reaches into her backpack to grab a pocket knife and a small cloth.

“I always have those with me in case I have to improvise a classic trick. But with you, I’ll show you something you won’t forget,” Clarke whispers, half to herself, half to Lexa. “This is one trick I’ve been developing for a long time.”

They sit face to face, Lexa looking at all the ingredients and wondering if the illusionist will make her a sudden meal out of three things.

“Thank you, Lexa, for following me around. I’ll make it worth your time. So here we have an orange, a pack of eggs, a lemon, a white cloth and my personal pocket knife. Are you excited? I am!”

Lexa gets caught in Clarke’s enthusiasm. The blonde’s easy-going attitude is contagious and Lexa feels it in every bone of her body.

Once again, Clarke removes her jacket to avoid any chances of being accused of hiding objects up her sleeves. She stretches her fingers and shows both sides of her hands to the brunette. She’s getting into her entertainer state of mind and the second she’s there, she points at Lexa’s hand.

“Lexa,” Clarke sighs as she thinks of the way to start this properly. “I can’t help but notice your ring.”

Lexa immediately clenches her jaw as her body stiffens. Her left hand reaches to her right one, slowly caressing the ring that fits flawlessly around her index finger. It’s made of wood and she’s treasured it ever since Costia gave it to her, years ago when they first started dating. It didn’t mean anything back then, just a present that had a sentimental value, but now, it means the world.

It’s a milestone. It’s an object more precious than anything else she owns and for a moment, she worries she made a mistake trusting Clarke.

“Um. I like it,” Clarke says hesitantly, sensing the change in the air. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I have a plan B. And let me remind you that all I do is based on scientific evidence. I’ve learned things at school and I apply it in my tricks. And frankly, I’m not asking you to believe in magic. It’s not magic, it’s science and I will never make your ring vanish into another dimension. If you allow me to take it for the trick, I promise, I’ll give it back to you in the same condition.”

Lexa is about to say no. She’s about to walk away and never look back, because what if Clarke runs? What if she runs with her ring and Lexa loses it forever? She would never forgive herself. But curiosity wins. She needs to know what will happen next. Beside, she judges, if Clarke wanted to run, she wouldn’t have emptied her bag on the table. Still, a part of her resists and Clarke doesn’t insist.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick to my plan B. It’s quite amazing too.”

Lexa interrupts her, removing her ring carefully. The only times she takes it off are when she showers.

“Take it.” She hands it to Clarke before she changes her mind.

Clarke thanks Lexa silently as their eyes connect. Something is different than earlier, the illusionist realizes. Lexa is less guarded and it shows in her body language and the way she presents herself. Lexa seems ready to bet on Clarke’s ability to surprise her.

It means the world to Clarke.

“As before, I invite you to check everything, make sure they’re all normal objects, that there’s no hole anywhere or secret pockets or anything. Also, I would like you to pick one egg from the pack. We’ll only use one,” Clarke says softly.

Lexa picks every item, examining it from every angle and making sure they’re all real. She feels slightly useless, knowing that she’s probably missing a trillion important details. When she’s satisfied, she lets Clarke begin.

“Let’s start with something easy,” Clarke says as Lexa gets more convinced that it will be anything but easy. “An explanation. I had to start medical school because of my mother. She wanted me to continue in this direction, but I refused. That said, I went to a lot of science classes, mostly chemistry and biology, and one thing I learned is that… it’s boring.”

Lexa’s eyebrow shoots up, questioning the reason why she’s been told this information.

Clarke grins.

“Just kidding. I learned that we’re all made of atoms. We’re all made of those tiny particles that can mix up with one another, assuming they have enough energy to do so.”

Lexa nods. She knows about that. It’s basic knowledge, but she doesn’t interrupt Clarke.

“One way to do that, to have atoms merge together, is with something we call nuclear fusion. It’s a highly simplified way to explain it, I know, but it’s just so I can jump directly into the cool part. Plus, I doubt you want to hear me talk about atoms forever.”

She makes sure Lexa is looking at her as she picks the orange and the egg that were bought earlier.

“Lexa. You agree that you picked those two items, right?”

“Yes. But I’m certain that you might have switched them without me noticing.”

“Fair enough, but let’s pretend that never happened because I didn’t do that,” Clarke giggles.

“We will never know for sure,” Lexa remarks, and Clarke nods in agreement, liking the way the other woman seems to open a little.

She takes the fruit in her right hand and the egg in the other one, showing them both at Lexa.

“Let’s say we were to reproduce the way two atoms merge together in a very… comical and poorly accurate way. Here is what would happen.”

She slowly moves them close to one another and, under Lexa’s scrutinizing eyes, slams the orange over the egg. She chuckles at herself when the egg completely disappears and plays with the orange, making it go from one hand to another.

“I have to say I didn’t expect that,” Lexa confides as she keeps looking at the fruit.

She searches on the floor, knowing too well that she won’t find any traces of the egg, and then looks around her as if everything was a prank. There are no cameras to film her confused reaction. She can’t even remember if she heard a crack.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Clarke pronounces slowly like a secret agent. “I got a knife.”

Lexa rolls her eyes visibly this time and Clarke’s laugh resonates around them like a song Lexa could listen to for hours.

It’s the kind of laugh that isn’t weighed down with pity or sadness, and Lexa knows it’s been too long since she heard such a sound. Even Anya doesn’t laugh the same way around her. No one does. It feels liberating to have Clarke remind her of what laughing should be like. It rings in her ears like freedom’s anthem.

“Hand me the lemon, please?”

Lexa knows what will happen before she even touches the lemon. She does as she’s told and watches with wide open eyes as Clarke repeats the movement. The lemon is in Clarke’s hand, Lexa sees it clearly, and one second later, it’s not. Just like that.

This time, the lemon disappears, engulfed by the orange, and Lexa can’t pretend to be surprised.

“You’re joking,” Lexa declares and crosses her arms against her chest. “You want me to believe that you just… merged all three of them together? That’s not science. Nowhere in nature does an orange tree make a fruit with a lemon and an egg included in it.”

Clarke is triumphant. She hadn’t expected her trick to go so well. She didn’t mess up, didn’t reveal anything, and now, she’s more than ready for the final blow. The way Lexa participates more verbally than before proves to Clarke that she’s doing good. It’s a small step, but to Clarke, it’s a giant leap towards making this her career. Confidence. Real, strong, unbreakable confidence is what she needs.

She takes the knife and wiggles her eyebrows.

“There’s only one way to prove your theory.”

She takes the orange and starts slicing it in half, making sure not to cut too deep. The smell of the fruit surrounds their table and Lexa cannot convince herself that it is a fake object. The smell is too strong and the juice is sliding down Clarke’s hands.

When Clarke separates the two halves slowly, the lemon is stuck in the middle of the orange, like it has always been there, and Lexa can only stay mute at the strangest sight and most peculiar trick she’s ever witnessed. It’s lightyears from the usual magic tricks she hears about. She must give credit to Clarke for the originality of the show.

Lexa doesn’t really know why she is surprised. All Clarke has done so far is betray her expectations.

“But wait, there’s mooore!” Clarke announces like she’s hosting a popular tv show.

“Wait. Show me that lemon.”

Lexa holds the lemon as long as can. She tries to find any cuts, any previous marks, anything that might help her understand what is about to happen, but there is nothing that shows it has been opened before. She stares at it without blinking,

“Lexa?”

“That’s my name,” Lexa mutters, still trying to understand.

“Where’s your ring?”

Lexa’s head springs up fast as green eyes scan the table and the ground for any traces of her ring. It’s nowhere to be seen and Clarke is sitting in front of her like an angel who doesn’t belong in Heaven.

Lexa is livid. She forgot about the ring. She forgot about it until Clarke mentioned it, and it takes her aback. She’s never forgotten about it in the past. Especially not since Costia’s death.

She gives the lemon back, and again, Clarke takes the knife to slice it open.

“What do we have here?” Clarke asks to herself as she reveals the egg, stuffed inside the lemon.

The egg also looks like it has been there the whole time. It almost looks like it’s staring mockingly at Lexa.

Lexa, who’s trying very hard not to smile now, when she’s having the pleasure, the privilege, of seeing something so remarkable. Thoughts of her ring hops in her mind and a crazy idea appears.

“I’ll give it to you. And you may… I don’t know, look at it,” Clarke suggests.

The second the egg is between Lexa’s fingers, she notices its weight. It’s similar to the way a normal egg would weigh, but something’s shifting inside of it. Something is moving. It can only be one thing and Lexa is speechless. When? When is easy. It’s sometimes between when she gave her ring to Clarke and right now. But the how is way trickier. There is no way Clarke could have inserted a ring inside an egg without breaking it first. Not in this world.

Clarke takes the cloth and puts it flat on the table, placing the egg on top of it. She folds the corner to hide the egg and breaks the shell as she hits it lightly with her fist.

The egg cracks open and its gelatinous content spills on the cloth. There, sitting on the cloth, in the middle of the mess, is the ring.

“What?” Lexa can’t help but exclaims as she stares at the scene. “That’s… impossible. I saw everything you did.”

“It’s science,” Clarke smiles mysteriously as she takes another cloth from her bag and cleans the ring. “I’ll clean it more if you allow me to use water.”

She points to a water bottle in her bag and Lexa nods, frozen. When the ring is completely clean, Clarke gives it back.

“Would you say that it’s your ring?”

Lexa knows it is. It is the same weight. It fits amazingly around her finger. It doesn’t irritate her skin. It has the subtle wear marks that she has grown to love. It’s not anyone else’s ring but hers. And it was inside an egg just a few seconds ago. Inside an egg, which was inside a lemon, which was inside an orange.

“Told you I’d give it back to you.”

“How?”

Clarke doesn’t answer. Not yet. Not when she sees the corners of Lexa’s mouth curling up slowly as the woman rotates the ring between her fingers.

Lexa’s smile is raw and small, almost invisible, but it’s there. It exists. It’s timid, as if it isn’t sure whether it has the right to appear or not, whether it deserves to or not. It’s fragile and exquisite. It looks like it has been gone for too long. It’s ethereal and Clarke is dazzled by its sight.

“I like your smile,” Clarke murmurs quietly.

She swears that it becomes wider after her comment, but Lexa remains silent.

Right here and now, Clarke thinks there is no greater magic than seeing Lexa’s smile.

* * *

 

They’re still sitting at the table when the lamp streets start to chase the darkness away as the sun completely disappears out of their sight. Two hours have passed since Lexa smiled and both women have fallen into a comfortable silence. Lexa hasn’t found anything to say after witnessing such brilliant illusion and Clarke has chosen to stop talking.

They both don’t really know why they chose to stay rather than go separate ways. Lexa could have left and thanked Clarke for this wonderful evening. Clarke could have run off to seek more people to impress. Instead, Lexa is reading the few first pages of her book while Clarke is scribbling notes on a piece of paper.

Lexa is reading. Her eyes are jumping from one sentence to another as she takes in every letter. She’s living the life of the characters, imagining their stories in her head and pretending to be one of them. She barely looks at Costia’s notes in the margins, but when she does, it doesn’t interrupt her immersion in the novel. It doesn’t make her heart painfully ache to a point she can’t focus anymore. It simply helps her to see the story differently.

She tries to ignore the way she wants to look at Clarke instead.

Clarke is scribbling notes and doodles of her next tricks, her mind burning with possibilities. For the first time, she doesn’t imagine a well-crafted puzzle that will fool everyone. She imagines a trick that will simply exist to bring emotions in people’s life. She imagines a trick that will put smiles on the face of people who don’t smile. She’s inspired by the way Lexa opened to her today, slowly, but authentically.

She tries to ignore the way she wants to stare at Lexa’s eyes instead.

Time waits for no one, and soon enough, it becomes obvious that one of them has to break the silence if they ever want to leave this place. Lexa shuts her book closed loudly immediately catching Clarke’s attention.

“I was impressed today.”

Clarke smiles proudly, butterflies flying in her stomach.

“Thank you. I’m really glad you were.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

For a moment, Clarke wonders if this small talk is just Lexa’s way to prepare themselves to say goodbye, but she notices honest interest in the green eyes that are directed her way. For some reason, she knows they’re both not ready to part ways.

She could have picked anyone today, but she’s convinced no one would have been as intoxicating as Lexa. Today is perfect. Today is everything she’s ever wanted and more.

“About a year,” Clarke reveals. “It was a rough start actually. I kept messing up my card tricks, I always dropped something from my sleeves… which is also why I stopped wearing sleeves, because that’s the first thing people suspect.”

Lexa nods.

“The first thing I suspected was that you would steal all my money.”

“Of course, there’s that too,” Clarke laughs. “I bet you regret that.”

“I’m not gone yet and there’s still time,” Lexa points out with a light tone that indicates she’s teasing Clarke. “Who knows what you’ll steal.”

“True. But I did leave a smile on your face and something tells me stealing your money would have been easier than doing that,” Clarke says prudently.

Lexa nods as she repeats the words in her head. She stares at Clarke curiously, trying to figure out who she is. Who’s this woman? Clarke walked up to her earlier today, showed her some illusions, and now, Lexa doesn’t know what to do. Does she leave? Does she walk away without having any idea of how everything unfolded? Does she ask for the secrets? Does she believe in magic?

Lexa watches Clarke and doesn’t know who she is. All she knows is that this stranger managed to do the impossible many times. She managed to impress her, to put a smile on her face and to leave her dumbfounded. She managed to take Costia off her mind for a moment. She managed to make Lexa stay when everything was obviously over.

In another life, Lexa would have left as soon as the trick was over, heading home to hide under the covers and wait for her dead girlfriend to speak to her.

In this life, Lexa wants to know Clarke more than she wants to visit the past.

In this life, Lexa will spend the rest of her life thinking about what a miracle Clarke is.

“Is this your career?” Lexa asks.

“Not yet. I made a bet with my mother a few months ago. I told her I could do this. I told her to give me three months to convince her that I could do it. It’s the last day today. I haven’t met anyone official. I haven’t gotten a contract or anything. I just practiced and told myself that if today I could find someone to impress, then tomorrow, I would go knock on doors and ask for a chance to be heard and to share my talent. If I couldn’t do that, I would go back to med school.”

It sounds simple, but Clarke knows better. A simple trick like the one she did with the cards has taken her weeks of practice. And the trick with the fruits is one she’s been thinking about since day one, practicing, spilling liquid everywhere in her kitchen, drinking orange juice every morning and cracking more eggs than she can count.

“What will you do tomorrow?”

“Knock on doors, make some calls. Start my real career?”

Lexa’s eyes twinkle as she opens her mouth.

“You sell more than tricks and science, Clarke. You have the talent to make people dream and believe in magic. That is priceless. I really hope you pursue this career.”

Clarke looks away absently.

“Yes. But I don’t want to pretend that I’m doing magic. Everything I do is… the result of many hours of practice and a few concepts I learned at school about the human brain.”

“The world needs more magic.”

“The world doesn’t need more lies.”

The conversation to a somber tone as both women analyze each other, searching for where to go next. Lexa is afraid she might have opened Pandora’s box, and Clarke challenges her to continue. A million things pass between them in a second before Lexa says:

“You don’t believe in magic?”

“Do you?”

Lexa thinks.

“You’re the one making illusions.”

Clarke nods. She makes them. She creates them to be different than what has already been done by most. She is thrilled when she wins the heart of people with her tricks, but she refuses to say it is magic.

“And I know the secret behind them. I don’t believe in magic itself, but I believe in making people happy. If they want to believe, I think it’s great. If it makes them smile, it’s amazing. And I’m only telling you this because you asked if I believed in magic. Little kids don’t ask. They accept it as magic and I love it this way. And you? Well, frankly, you look like you just needed a little of joy in your life when I noticed you earlier.”

“I did,” Lexa confesses.

“When I was young, I lost my dad,” Clarke says, not really knowing why she’s talking about it to a person she just met. “I was… lost. I was really young. I thought if I could make tricks, learn them and master them, then maybe I could find a way to bring him back. Naïve, isn’t it? But isn’t that what we believe magic is? Magic is the thing that people use to bring their loved ones back to life. Magic is the ingredient that allows true love to exist in all the fairy tales. Magic is when the impossible, the truly impossible, doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t bring anyone back. I can’t cure illnesses. I can’t create love out of thin air or erase the past.”

“But you created a smile today, Clarke. You created mine. You created wonder and excitement. You created happiness. Creating happiness out of thin air, isn’t that magical? Isn’t it just as impossible as the rest?”

Maybe it’s the fact that Lexa’s eyes aren’t a lifeless shade of green anymore, but rather a radiant forest of splendid trees, that makes Clarke unable to look away, unable to stop talking. Maybe it’s the way Lexa stares at her like she’s drinking in her words and Clarke loves the attention. Maybe it’s the dimmed lights that make this time and place more extraordinary than it really is.

It doesn’t matter what it is, Clarke is wonderstruck by Lexa.

Lexa, whose smile is back and shining through the dark.

Lexa, whose words are forever imprinted in Clarke’s mind.

Lexa, whose honesty is ravaging Clarke’s logic.

Lexa, whose presence will be gone by the end of the evening.

“All I wanted was to read a book,” Lexa spills out. “And when you approached me, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be disturbed today. I haven’t been the best person to be with these past weeks. I lost someone special to me.”

Lexa, whose vulnerability brings her to tears.

“My girlfriend. Her name was Costia.”

Lexa pauses and waits for Clarke’s reaction. She waits for Clarke to tell her to stop or to walk away. She waits for Clarke to laugh or to interrupt her. She waits for a homophobic comment because that’s how brainwashed society has made her. She waits for something. Nothing happens. Just a respectful silence.

Lexa finds herself enchanted by Clarke.

Clarke, whose arms look like they could shelter her from all the evils in this world.

Clarke, whose voice guides her safely home.

Clarke, whose smile brightens her life.

Clarke, whose patience makes her feels unconditionally loved.

“She was with me one moment and the next, she was gone. She left my place to run errands and she never came back. They found her body. It was a hit and run. It was completely unexpected.”

Clarke, whose strength lights a fire in Lexa’s spirit.

“It was three months ago. I know what it feels like to lose someone. I know how it feels to wish they would come back if you could just find the right words to say, the right prayer to make. If I didn’t know better, I would ask you to make her come back. I would ask you to cast a spell and make the pain go away. But I know I can’t. And I know, even if you could, you might not do it. You can’t control who lives and who dies.”

Her voice stays calm, vaguely lost in memories, but still, Clarke can hear the way it shatters at the end of her sentence. Clarke’s heart breaks at the way Lexa tries to keep her body in control.

“This pain is mine. And despite how excruciating it feels, a part of me is grateful it is me who must bear it, and not Costia,” Lexa declares.

Clarke gains respect for Lexa with every sentence she pronounces.

“Love doesn’t know any boundaries,” Clarke replies. “For what it’s worth, I think Costia didn’t want to leave you so fast.”

Clarke doesn’t really know if her words matter or if they will bring any sort of comfort to Lexa, but she can’t keep them in. She knows Lexa must have heard all the variations of, “I’m sorry for your loss.” She doesn’t want to repeat the same boring sentence. She doesn’t want to offer something so superficial to Lexa.

Clarke feels better than she has in a long time. She’s ready to conquer the world and she doesn’t want to leave Lexa feeling like the only one whose life has changed.

It looks like she said the right thing.

“You made me feel today,” Lexa says. “You reminded me what smiling feels like. You reminded what joy feels like.”

“I simply did the trick. You did the rest,” Clarke grins. “It seems you still have the ability to smile.”

“You started it all.”

Clarke thinks this might be the best compliment she’s ever received.

“What will you do tomorrow?” Clarke asks, mirroring Lexa’s previous words and trying to get a glimpse at her future.

Lexa knows her answer without thinking about it.

“Remember you.”

They look at each other like they have lived years together. Unknown messages are delivered and secret notes are exchanged as they stay as still as two statues facing one another for an endless minute.

Clarke’s hand is twitching with the need to reach Lexa’s and hold it, but the blonde thinks better of it. She won’t start something she can’t finish. She won’t start something that could risk ruining this day. This day is perfect. It has been everything Clarke hoped it would be, and more. When she’ll look back at it, years later, she wants it to remain as flawless as it is.

Unforgettable and frozen in time.

Lexa’s lungs are expending with each breath she takes. She feels them growing in her chest and savors the sensation. It feels like she’s taking her first breath of air in a long time. It felt like she had been buried underground next to Costia ever since her death, and now, she’s free to roam this earth again, more alive than ever before. All she wants is to move closer to Clarke and breathe her in, to memorize her scent and carry it with her as a timeless relic from this day.

Years from now, they might meet again.

Just like that, the spell that keeps them together breaks. They know, just by the way they look at each other, in a melancholic and longing way, that the evening is over.

“I loved meeting you,” Clarke smiles.

Lexa blinks once as the words engrave themselves in her soul.

Clarke keeps her promise to stay away from Lexa’s body and they don’t touch each other before they walk away. There’s no embrace, no handshake, no physical contact at all, and they’re not sure if they’re happy or sad about it.

They’re not sure if they’re happy or sad about anything. They’re drunk on each other’s presence and they need to stop before they get wasted.

They don’t say goodbye. They don’t exchange numbers. They just go in different directions. It’s really as simple as that. At the end of the day, they remain Clarke, an illusionist looking for someone to impress, and Lexa, a reader seeking a way to change her story.

They are Clarke and Lexa, destined to meet once and to change each other’s life.

They are Clarke and Lexa, strangers and soulmates at the same time.

They are Clarke and Lexa, the trigger to each other’s grand adventure.

Clarke doesn’t look back when she leaves the park, but she feels her cheeks burning as she walks home with newfound confidence.

Lexa doesn’t look back when she leaves the park, but she feels her heart beating faster as she walks home with newfound hope. 

* * *

 

Clarke takes her phone and dials a number. It’s eight in the morning and she can’t stand still.

As she waits for the other person to answer, she sits on her bed and thinks of yesterday. She thinks of Lexa and the way her brown hair flowed in the wind. She thinks of her piercing eyes and soft pink lips. She thinks of her voice and her confused expressions after each trick. She thinks of her smile, impossible to forget.

As she waits for the other person to answer, she dreams of what her life can be. She imagines her bedroom, full of scripts and notes related to her tricks. She imagines a full theater with people who paid to see her performing. She imagines her mom, finally accepting and loving the fact that her daughter heals people’s mind rather than their body. She imagines her father, looking down from above, cheering along with the crowd. She imagines Lexa, somewhere in the crowd.

As she waits for the other person to answer, she wonders what Lexa is doing. Is she alone? Is she thinking about Costia? Is she still sleeping? Does she think about her? Is she starting her same routine or doing something different? Is someone waiting for her? Is someone waiting for her to move on?

All those unanswered questions disappear when a voice answers.

“Clarke?”

“Mom? I’m never going back to med school.”

* * *

 

Lexa takes her phone and dials a number.

As she waits for an answer, she thinks of yesterday. She thinks of the way everything had started the same way. She had walked to the park and opened a book, unaware that her own story was about to be rewritten. She had been suspicious and skeptic of a stranger before she had gotten sucked into a world of wonder.

As she waits for an answer, she dreams of what her life will be. She won’t let Costia control her life, but she will never forget her. She won’t let go of her memories, but she will move on. She won’t stay prisoner of her room, of pictures and events that occurred months ago. She won’t live like she doesn’t deserve to still be alive, and she won’t wait for death like it is the only thing she must do now. She will laugh. She will love. She will do more than just survive. And in a couple of years, she will buy tickets to Clarke’s show and she will let herself believe in magic.

As she waits for an answer, she thinks of Clarke. Is she alone? Is she planning her future? Is she becoming famous? Is she holding someone close, whispering in their ears that today is the day? Is she in love with someone and sharing her passion with them? Or is she simply practicing another stunning trick in the comfort of her home?

Clarke changed her. Clarke moved her when she was incapable of moving herself, and Lexa wishes nothing but success to her. 

Clarke stays in the back of her mind when the person she’s calling finally answers.

“Lexa?”

“Hi, Anya. What are you doing today?”

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is to every meaningful ephemeral encounter. 
> 
> To every lasting encounter. 
> 
> YT links (In French, but still understandable if you don't speak French because you can see what happens):
> 
> Fish card trick: watch?v=JP28JS9gDm4
> 
> Fruit & ring trick: watch?v=_Pk7ym9EAlQ & watch?v=gK0gPCqBIaE
> 
> Finally, you might have recognized some songs inspiration, including "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift & "Happy and sad" by Kacey Musgraves


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